


Shadow Play

by Umeko



Series: Orden Tales [5]
Category: Trinity Blood
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Child Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, Heavy BDSM, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 06:57:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umeko/pseuds/Umeko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaak decides to teach Dietrich a lesson after his latest fiasco in Byzantium. This is the follow-up on the scene in manga volume 9 after Cain and Isaak punish Dietrich for the Nightlords fiasco and daring to sass back at Isaak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadow Play

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Trinity Blood and its characters DO NOT belong to me. Strictly speaking, I am not sure whether my characters can even be considered canon. 
> 
> This fic was originally posted on fanfiction.net and has since been removed for explicit content.

“No, please, don’t! NO!” Slender legs kicked impotently as he fought against the Crusnik’s inhuman strength. “NO!” Coffee-brown eyes widened in horror as the raven-haired mage approached. He could feel the heat, the promise of pain. Closer… closer… until his eye watered from the glowing tip of the cigarillo primed to blind him.

 

A low chuckle and the smell of burning upholstery told him he got lucky, this time. Relief flushed through him as the Crusnik released his victim. Dietrich slid off the Crusnik’s lap, off the armchair into a heap on the floor. He could feel warm telltale stickiness through the seat of his pants where Mein Herr had pressed against him. He knew what it was. _How disgusting…_  Cain always got off torturing his subordinates. Even now, a foot pressed hard against his chest as he sprawled at his tormenter’s feet.

 

 _Play dead._ Someone once said that when faced with a bear, one should play dead. Dietrich hoped it worked with Mein Herr and Isaak. Mein Herr would soon tire and go find some other Terran to torture. To his relief, the almost unbearable pressure on his chest finally lifted. He hoped it meant Mein Herr was gone.

 

“Playing dead doesn’t always work, boy…” Isaak. Cruel fingers wound themselves in brown hair and yanked him none too gently up from the floor. At least Mein Herr was gone.

 

Those coffee-brown eyes Isaak was so fond of fluttered open. Isaak slipped an arm around Dietrich, both to steady him and pull him close. “Time for a debriefing,” Isaak chuckled and slipped his hand towards the small of his protégé’s back. “About your performance recently, you have been a let-down in Istvan and that recent debacle in the Empire… You have a knack for underestimating little girls, don’t you? Or were you distracted by something else… like this?”

 

Dietrich winced when Isaak shoved him back against the wall roughly and ground his hips against his lithe frame. Isaak was immediately rewarded by a gasp.

 

“How many others have screwed you, Dietrich? Twenty? Fifty? Or have you lost count?” Gloved hands spun Dietrich around to face the wall and a hand forced its way into the front of Dietrich’s pants. “Slut. You are nothing but a sick little whore, carrying on with Endres, Alfred and half a dozen others…”

 

“You made me one, Isaak… you did me first…” Dietrich braced himself against the wall, forehead pressed into the cool wall. “I hate you … You make me sick…”

 

“Liar, your body says otherwise…” Isaak hissed and tore Dietrich’s pants down to his ankles, freeing his aching erection.

 

_8 years ago, Londonium_

_“Isaac? Are you in?” William Walter Wordsworth knocked on the door of his classmate’s apartment. The lecture was starting soon and Isaac had been missing way too many lectures. William was a little concerned about his fellow student’s well-being. Isaac was very pale the last time they met in the hall. It must be hard studying and taking care of a younger brother, never mind if young Dean Butler was surprisingly mature for his tender age. Then again, Isaac was not known to attend lessons before sunset, presumably due to his day job._

_“Dean?” Perhaps that unsettlingly mature brother of Isaac’s was in. “May I have my psychology textbook back, please?” William asked and rapped on the door again. He swore he heard something, or maybe it was just the creaking of Butlers’ shabby apartment block. Dean always promised to return William the books he had borrowed from him, but he never did. With the finals coming, William needed his textbooks._

_Satisfied both Butlers were out, William left._

_Seated in his armchair in the dimly-lit apartment, Isaac Butler, better known in the Orden as Isaak Fernand von Kampfer, nonchalantly clapped a hand over his ‘brother’s’ mouth to stifle the boy’s cries of pain. His other hand gripped a bony hip, lifting Dietrich up and down in rhythm with his thrusts. Straddling Isaak, Dietrich gripped the armrests of the chair until his knuckles turned white, silent tears running down his pale cheeks as his body was pummelled by Isaak’s bulk…His body was too young,  too fragile for what Isaak was doing to him._

_“Good boy,” Isaak whispered into Dietrich’s ear as he gave a final thrust into the boy’s bleeding body._

_“Isaak, it hurts…” Dietrich gasped into the hand still clapped onto his mouth. He didn’t want to confirm what that hot stickiness filling him and running down his thighs was, even though he had a good suspicion._

_“You’ll get used to it. In fact, I think you’ll enjoy it…” Sated, Isaak roughly shoved Dietrich off his lap and lit a cigarillo. He took a drag as he admired Dietrich’s naked, bruised body. “A body as beautiful as yours is only good for this. Now lick this mess up.” He gestured to his groin. On his knees, Dietrich shivered as he sucked off the blood and seed._

 

“Are you going to fuck me senseless the way you did Dean Butler for speaking to the neighbours? I bet having your kid brother discussing philosophy and politics with your classmates is very embarrassing for you.” Dietrich ground his hips suggestively against Isaak. For the first few years, sex with Isaak was immensely painful and humiliating. In some perverted way, it had become almost enjoyable as their twisted relationship continued.

 

Dietrich knew his baiting Isaak would end up with him writhing under Isaak… and he was looking forward to it.  

 

“Bitch.”

 

Reading Dietrich’s intentions, Isaak relinquished his grip and stepped away. He was not going to give in to Dietrich. If Dietrich wanted it, Isaak was determined to deny him. It would be delightful to simply sit back and watch Dietrich squirm the way he did earlier. Isaak hid a smile at the memory of a frustrated Dietrich wriggling about in his chair while the Duke of Tigris rekindled a past affair with the late Radu. One hand keeping control of his puppet as the Duke made passionate love to it in a distant Byzantium study, one hand groping down the front of his pants. Cheeks flushed from the effort of trying to sate his lust and maintain control…

 

“You are so desperate, Di. You can’t live without having someone doing you, could you?” Isaak grumbled. “Go run along and animate some corpse, then screw yourself on it the way you did with Radu.”

 

“Or I could try seducing you, like I did Gyula…” Dietrich hissed. He let his tie fall to the floor and began unbuttoning his shirt. “I made him forget about his dear wife… He was a considerate lover, not rough like Radcon or Alfred… So, Magician, would you prefer doing it in a nice soft bed, in the backseat of your limo or outdoors in an alley?” With deliberate slowness, Dietrich let his shirt slip off his frame. He now stood naked before his mentor.

 

“I am not interested. Go find someone else to seduce,” Isaak made a show of nonchalantly stubbing out his cigarillo in an astray. _Rutting about in the back of his car?_ Now he knew the origin of those suspicious stains he found in his car after the Terran volunteered to drive Count Alfred to the train station…  He hated the notion of his Dietrich romping about with that simpleton.

 

“Poor old Endres taught me some interestingly kinky games during our weekend getaway in Venice. We would have invited you for a threesome but you were laid up after that disaster in Rome… maybe I could show you some…” Two could play at this game. If Isaak was determined to leave him wanting, Dietrich would just have to make Isaak want him.

 

“Or I could summon my minions to rape you in ways you never imagined possible…” Isaak made an obscure gesture in the air. Tentacles of shadow surrounded his victim. Dietrich’s brown eyes widened in horror as it dawned on him that he might have overstepped his boundaries for the second time that night. The shadows oozed closer. “And I will have the whole event captured on video for my future enjoyment, since I can hardly expect you to be alive after they are done,” Isaak smirked.

 

“Isaak, please! Don’t… I’m sorry…” Dietrich gibbered and backed against the wall, eyes teary with fear. Those fear-filled coffee-brown eyes sent a tremor of desire to Isaak’s already aching groin. Those lovely eyes never failed to arouse him. _Playtime, Di. And let’s see who the puppet is now…_

 

“NO!” Dietrich screamed as the shadows engulfed him at Isaak’s command. 

 

Cold, icy tendrils engulfed him. They almost seemed to freeze his very blood. It was not the first time Isaak used his shadows as a portal to transport Dietrich to his bed, but it was the first time Dietrich lacked his mentor to cling to for reassurance. Darkness, then light. He was no longer in the computer control room. Instead, he was surrounded by the familiarity of what Isaak had once referred to as his private den of decadence. Isaak often took him there when in the mood for an extended romp.

 

Relieved, the Terran looked about him. No sign of shadow demons. The sunken Turkish-style bath in the centre was filled with scented water graced with a flotilla of rose petals. Scented candles burned in strategic alcoves and lamps hung from the ceiling. A bottle of expensive red wine sat in an ice-bucket by the Oriental-style divan near the bath. Isaak had definitely been expecting some action from him. But there was no sign of the Panzer Magier. Feeling a bit chilly, Dietrich took a silken dressing robe from the closet and threw it over his nakedness.

 

He selected an erotic picture book from the selection available on the den’s bookcase and walked over to the large four-poster bed that dominated the far corner of the room. Sitting down on the edge of the velvet coverlet, he pored over the pictures of cavorting couples. How many times had they rutted here? How many times had Isaak taken him on the cushions of this very bed, in the bath or on the divan, or even up against the mahogany bookcase?

 

“Nice to see you’re brushing up on your skills…” _Isaak._ Dietrich had not heard him enter. Still dressed in his uniform, the Magician sat on the divan across the room, watching him.

 

“You were expecting me, weren’t you, Isaak. You need me, more than I need you…” Lulled by the familiar surroundings, Dietrich’s bravado was returning. He walked slowly towards Isaak, deliberately letting his dressing gown slip open. Purposely, he waded through the sunken bath that stood between them. The dampness on his skin glistened in the candlelight. Isaak took a thoughtful drag on his cigarillo and snapped his fingers. Music filled the den. Isaak moved aside so that he could sit beside him.

 

“Drink.”

 

Dietrich took the bottle offered and took a generous swallow of the rich claret. He managed another mouthful before Isaak pulled him in for a fierce kiss. Isaak forced his tongue between those sweet lips, tasting the wine in Dietrich’s mouth. The kiss dragged on until Dietrich felt light-headed. His fumbling fingers worked at loosening his mentor’s tie. Isaak suddenly slapped them away, broke the kiss and got up.

 

“Not so fast, my puppet. You need to be taught who’s in charge here.”

 

“Isaak…” Dietrich made to protest. “In the Orden, Mein Herr is our master. The next in the chain of command is me,” Isaak continued as if lecturing a slow pupil. “And you, a mere Magister, are below me. Keep that in mind. You will do as your betters command you and I now order you to…amuse yourself while I undress… I’ll be watching.”

 

“What?” Dietrich gasped. “You pervert…” Still, he touched himself. Isaak was in a dangerous mood. Already, Dietrich caught glimpses of the dreaded shadows from the corner of his eyes.

 

“Surely you could do better, Di. Or should I get my minions to assist you? I read death can be almost orgasmic,” Isaak taunted. Dietrich gritted his teeth, closed his eyes and continued working himself. He had done it on numerous occasions in his workshop over his AutoJaggers, he had done it while controlling Radu’s corpse… but he had not done it with the threat of imminent violent death hovering over his shoulder. Isaak watched as the colour rose in Dietrich’s cheeks and soft pants emitted from his lips. He could not hold out any longer.

 

“Stop. You are not to touch yourself further. Not to come before I command you.” Biting back a protest, Dietrich opened his eyes. Light-headed from the wine and aching with lust, he saw Isaak was sitting in the bath, water up to his chest. Black raven tresses swirled in among the red petals like his shadow minions. Or did those demons lurk under the calm surface? Strains from the opera _Lohengrin_ filled the eerily still den. Dietrich recognized it as the _Bridal March_.

 

“Come.” Dietrich stepped forward, letting his robe slide off his shoulders and onto the mosaic tiles. Isaak reached out a hand which Dietrich took, allowing himself to be gently guided down the steps into the warm water. With surprising gentleness, he was guided into position, straddling Isaak. Dietrich placed both hands on Isaak’s shoulders. Isaak kissed him gently, teasing his lips apart and delving into his mouth. In response, Dietrich ran his hands lightly over Isaak’s muscular chest. His lips tingled with the increasing passion of their kisses.

 

The music changed to the _Ride of the Valkyries_ and the assault began. Grabbing Dietrich by the hips, Isaak thrust his bulk completely in, making Dietrich scream with shock.

 

“Look at me. Disobey me and be punished,” Isaak ordered as he pounded violently and mercilessly into Dietrich. A faint tinge of blood from the Terran’s badly torn body was mixing into the bathwater, the scent egging Isaak to increase the tempo of his assault.

 

Cowering, Dietrich looked into Isaak’s eyes, seeing the promise of unbridled cruelty. He was being torn apart inside. The warm water did little to relieve his pain. Isaak’s claws raked the flesh of his back, hips and buttocks, lacerated skin freeing more blood into the water. He became aware of a more pressing problem.  The burning friction of Isaak’s thrusts was driving his already aroused body over the edge. “Isaak, I can’t stand it…”

 

Too late, Dietrich’s release came too soon. Isaak’s reaction was immediate. With a growl, Isaak hit him across the face. Dietrich felt a tooth cut his lip. Before he could recover, fingers seized his hair, nearly ripping it from his scalp as Isaak shook him roughly. “Naughty boy, I did not say you could come.”

 

Dietrich barely caught a breath of air before his head was forced below the surface. Submerged completely under Isaak’s magnificent body, the rutting continued. Dietrich took in the red-tinged water, red petals floating above his head. His lungs burned for air. The wine he had consumed earlier weighed down his limbs. He clawed and flailed about weakly. Darkness was starting to creep into his vision. He was dying…

 

Isaak did not need to come up for air. He watched his victim’s antics in morbid fascination. Panic and sheer fear of drowning graced those coffee-coloured eyes as brown strands floated about a pale, panic-stricken face. Dietrich’s body shook under his, around his as the spasms took over. Death was orgasmic, in a twisted way, Isaak reflected as he finally poured himself into Dietrich. But he was not done with this little plaything yet. _Couldn’t let him drown, could he?_

 

Dietrich spluttered and retched. _Air. Sweet, merciful air!_ He took great gulps of the stuff. Half-drowned but he was still alive. Isaak propped him up against the side of the bath, stroking his back, his face with mock tenderness. “Isaak, you fucking bastard! You almost killed me!” Dietrich snarled. His insides ached. His body was bruised from bumping against the bottom of the bath. He had taken in a few mouthfuls of water.

 

“Dietrich, Dietrich… no talking back to your superiors. Or haven’t you learnt your lesson yet? I see you must be further disciplined…” Isaak purred and snapped his fingers. _Shadow minions!_ Dietrich thrashed about in the water. Isaak’s demon-like minions seized him by the arms, dragging him out of the water. Shrieking and cursing, he was hauled roughly over to the cavernous bed.

 

Dressed in his favourite black silk dressing gown, Isaak admired the slender body sprawled on the bed. Dietrich’s arms were yanked above his head, the wrists chained together and fastened to the headboard. Bruises were starting to show on ivory pale skin and blood from wounds inflicted earlier stained the sheets. Dietrich had been a small child. Now, he was still slight-built, almost fragile. He smiled as Dietrich screamed abuse into his gag. He kicked out when Isaak approached the bed, landing a glancing hit on Isaak’s thigh. Isaak summoned two tendrils of shadow to restrain Dietrich’s ankles.

 

“Naughty boys who kick like a mule will be whipped like a mule.” Dietrich screamed and bucked as Isaak lashed him with a riding crop. “And this is for making a mess in my limo,” Isaak added almost as an afterthought. He took the lighted cigarillo from his lips and pressed the burning tip onto Dietrich’s inner thigh. “If you disobey me one more time, I will cut you here…” Isaak cupped him between his legs. “And stick this up you.”

 

The brown-haired youth shuddered at the sight of his tormentor loading a pistol. Isaak allowed himself to savour the terror on Dietrich’s eyes before putting the pistol aside. “Understand?” Dietrich nodded and breathed a sigh of relief.

 

“Now, now, Di… Drink.” Propping him up on the cushions, Isaak removed the gag and pressed a brandy bottle to Dietrich’s bruised lips. Dietrich turned away. He already had too much wine. “Drink or I will pour this inside you the other way…” Isaak climbed onto the bed and placed a knee against Dietrich’s groin. Dietrich reluctantly took a swallow of the fiery liquid. _He’d be sick…_ And Isaak would definitely set his monsters loose on him for throwing up in bed.

 

“Good boy. You are learning.” Isaak tapped a tear-streaked cheek with the crop. He brushed away damp hair plastered to his lover’s face. “Some other rules you must be taught. First, I hate sharing my things, which happens at this point of time, to include you. If I ever hear of you carrying on with someone else behind my back again, I will personally shoot you in the ass.”

 

“Isaak, I’m sorry…” Dietrich started. Isaak pinched his lips together roughly. “However, I understand that a slut like you have needs and appetites. You may continue your pastimes with my permission, but only if you clean yourself thoroughly a wire brush afterwards. I do not wish to smell someone else’s stench on you. Secondly, no more rutting in my car, unless it is with me.” Dietrich nodded and was rewarded by Isaak freeing his sore lips and stroking his hair.

 

“Third, I hate being lied to, especially from the likes of a Terran whore like you. You are always sprouting sweet lies from those lips… which can be put to much better use about now…” Isaak touched himself. He removed the chain from the headboard and yanked. Dietrich cried out as his arms were almost wrenched from their sockets. The icy grip of the shadows on his ankles vanished as the tentacles slid away.  Isaak pulled him in for a harsh kiss but did not unchain him.  “What do you want now, Di?” 

 

“I-I want… you….inside…” Dietrich gasped. Isaak was touching his body in that made him crave sex with the man despite the violence and humiliation he had inflicted. “Good boy.” Isaak gave him another rough kiss before pushing his head down to where the black silk parted. Isaak dug his fingers into Dietrich’s scalp, drawing blood and forcing him to take his length in his mouth. “Suck.” Dietrich immediately started sucking, his hands pressed against the older man’s thigh for support as Isaak started thrusting down his throat.

 

Isaak laughed when Dietrich choked on one particularly violent thrust. Dietrich choked back a sob and pondered biting down on the thing choking him. “Bite and I will make you wish for death,” Isaak growled a warning when he felt teeth scrape his flesh. With soft moans, his puppet continued pleasuring him.

 

“Enough.” Dietrich was shoved back onto the cushions. Isaak forced his legs apart. The youth was almost quivering and gasping with anticipation on the silken cushions. “Dietrich von Lohengrin, you are a shameless whore,” Isaak murmured. That ironically was part of what attracted him to the boy.

 

“I hate you, Isaak… I hate you for making me want you. I hate you for making me need you. I can’t get through a day without wanting you inside me, tearing me up…” Dietrich rambled under him. The alcohol he had consumed made his tongue reckless. Isaak wondered if the Terran meant his words or if this was another one of his tricks.

 

“Prove it,” Isaak laid down on the cushions beside him, pulling Dietrich on top of him. Dietrich immediately straddled his hips. With a harsh cry, the brown-haired Terran impaled himself on Isaak’s shaft, taking him in to the hilt. Without waiting for his body to adjust, Dietrich started moving up and down, repeatedly tearing himself inside. _How beautiful._ He reminded Isaak of some fallen angel being corrupted by a demon. Cheeks flushed, Dietrich threw back his head, both laughing and crying.

 

Isaak placed his hands on those boyish hips to steady his frenzied movements, even as he arched upwards to his lover. His hands dug into Dietrich’s flesh, leaving angry bruises. He yanked on the chain, pulling Dietrich’s wrists towards him. Fangs pierced a pale wrist. Isaak drank as Dietrich rode him.

 

There was more blood and more tears from Dietrich before they both found their release. Spent, Dietrich fell forward onto Isaak’s chest.

 

“I’m your whore, Isaak Fernand von Kampfer. Use me, no, abuse me any way you want. I’m your plaything. Rape me, torture me, bleed me dry…I don’t care!” Dietrich gasped and pressed his cheek against Isaak’s chest. Isaak placed an arm over Dietrich and pulled him closer. Sobs wracked that slight frame. Dietrich breathed in Isaak’s scent, a heady mix of musk, sweat and tobacco. Isaak ruffled his hair as one would with a favourite pet.

 

“I know. You are a fast learner, my boy. Now rest.” Isaak waited until the Terran cried himself to sleep. Gently, he eased the Terran off him and got up, straightening his robe.

 

“Bravo, Von Kamper. A stellar performance, as usual.” Cain clapped and stepped out of the shadowy recesses beside the bed where he had been watching all this while. “Though we both know he has outgrown your tastes a while ago. Perhaps it is time we find some little innocent brown-eyed boy for your bedroom games.”

 

“Naturally. Till then I suppose I’ll have to make do with the puppet I have,” Isaak smirked and lit a cigarillo. He would use the willing brat until he was broken beyond repair. Then he would slice out those lovely brown eyes and preserve them in a jar, just like he did with his past toys. He grinned wickedly. It’s a crying shame really, that they grew up too fast. 


End file.
